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Showing posts from December, 2005

The Mousehole Cat

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That darn cat! I gave myself a Christmas present this year in the form of a video (no DVD, apparently) of a children's story called The Mousehole Cat . The film is based on a book by Antonia Barber and it features fabulous animation and lovely narration by the talented British actress Sian Phillips. I've seen it about four times now and I cry my eyes out every time. It's amazing how such a short simple story can have such a powerful impact on me, but maybe that's the answer: it's short, it's simple, and it's honest. Hell, I cry at a lot of movies. That's not news. There are still few scenes from It's A Wonderful Life that still get me and there's The Big Parade , a silent war epic that has some very touching scenes, and then City Lights , my God, City Lights , with its final image, I can flood a whole theater with my tears. But this particular film has got its claws into me and it won't let go. And I don't want to be released from its ma

So This Is Christmas...

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I think my sister said it best as she was going out the door tonight: "We did it." She was referring to the Christmas dinner she and I hosted earlier in the evening for about a dozen friends and relatives. This holiday had a very special meeting to us since it was the first time we held a Christmas dinner at our home in four or five years. My mother died in July 2002, and she had been in a nursing home for a long time prior to that, so we didn't do anything at home. No tree, no decorations, and certainly no guests. After she died we held family get-togethers on Christmas, but always at a restaurants because, as I've mentioned previously, my sister and I dreaded the thought of looking at our mother's empty chair while we tried to conduct a celebration. But this year our father is a bit frail and I think we're a little stronger. So we catered the whole thing, roped in the usual suspects, as my mother used to call our relatives, and had an old fashioned Christmas

All Aboard!

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All right, the transit strike is officially over. Now what? It looks like the folks that have to get here on Christmas Day can use the trains, as opposed to roller blades and hang gliders. And I can enjoy the sites in New York during the holidays without having to walk through the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel to see them. I know this strike crippled the city and I honestly think this was not the best path for the union to take, but by the same token they were fighting for some important issues and the MTA, as I've mentioned before, needs a complete overhaul. I heard some reporters from the Village Voice on the radio today and they pretty much said this privately run government agency (huh?) is the crony capital of New York, the place where the well-connected install their slow-witted cousins and then run like hell. We've got Mike "The Working Class Billionaire" Bloomberg and George "Thinks He's Presidential" Pataki talking tough. And that right wing rag of ne

Train Wreck

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I can't believe this is happening. For the first time in 25 years, New York City has been hit with a transit strike--with just five days till Christmas. It's freezing cold and I am hearing reports of people walking over the Brooklyn Bridge. I can only thank God that my company is allowing me to work from home, though I'd feel a little better if I heard from someone at the office. I just called now and the phone rang 20 times before I hung up. From what I hear on the news reports, people seem to be coping, at least for the moment. As this strike wears on, though, our nerves will be tested. I hate this nonsense. I can't believe the idiots on both sides of the table are leaving 7 million people on the hook like this. I have always supported labor unions and I always will, but this is not the way to win popular support. I save my true contempt, though, for the MTA, an organization that nearly rivals the mafia in its secret deals and illegal operations. It is a blend of a pr

Rail World

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And so now we face another deadline. A threat of a transit has been hovering over New York for the last few days like a huge storm system. There were rumblings earlier in the month, but the harsh winds of rhetoric intensified on both sides of the bargaining table as the deadline drew nearer. Friday was supposed to be the official deadline for a system-wide strike and I was bidding farewell to my co-workers and gym buddies on Thursday as if I were moving to New Zealand. See you tomorrow, unless there's a strike, and then, well...who knows? But the union held back, pushing the deadline for the whole transit system until Tuesday, or as I like to call it, the day after tomorrow. If nothing happens tonight, the union will shut down private bus lines in Queens, thus sending a shot over the bow of management while keeping on the right side of the anti-strike laws for municipal workers. I think I speak for the entire commuting population when I say this sucks. Christmas is one week away, t

Elfin Liars

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And now the news from the front. No, I'm not talking about the war in Iraq. Who cares about all those American soldiers and Iraqi civilians who died for George Bush's lies and who will have a lot of company before this mess is sorted out? I'm talking about the war on Christmas. Each year right wing blowhards trot out this tiresome mythology about how Christmas is being push into the shadows by the godless liberals, political correctoids, secular humanists, and, of course, the gays. I made up that last one, but I'm sure they'll want to blame the queers for this, too. It's become a yearly event, this holiday charade, and it as welcome as a cheap fruitcake. Look, they shriek, look how store employees are being told to say "happy holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas." Look at how Christmas trees are being called "holiday trees," how religious ceremonies and decorations are being banned from public buildings. It's the end of all tha

Jealous Guy

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How could it be that 25 years have passed since John Lennon was killed? It's hard to believe such much time has slipped away, and even harder to believe this terrible thing happened in the first place. The newspapers, TV shows and God knows how many web sites are filled with Lennon memorials and I've decided I'm going to join the chorus. John Lennon's Imagine was the first album I ever bought in my life. I was at a record store in the King's Plaza shopping center and the album was playing over the sound system. I pretended to look for records (remember those?) while listening to track after track. When I finally decided that this album was worth the investment, I dug into my pocket, paid something like five bucks and walked out with my very own record. The album came with a poster of John Lennon playing a piano outdoors--was it the Central Park bandshell? Honestly, I don't remember and I have no idea what happened to that poster. I do remember my freshman high

The Auntie Vanishes

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My aunt pulled a disappearing act last week that would have made Houdini jealous. I call my aunt every morning from work to see how she's doing. She's my mom's sister and a few years ago she lost both my mom and her husband in less than a year. She lives in Manhattan and several days a week she'd go downtown, take the ferry out to Staten Island and visit my mom in the nursing home. Then she'd go home and take care of her husband, who was dying from cancer. I don't know how she did it. When these two people she loved so dearly died within such a short period of time, my aunt had a terrible gap in her life. I started calling her daily to see how she was doing and I think I wanted to stay "in touch" with my mom in a way. Obviously they're two different people, with two distinct personalities, but she's still my mom's sister. And, in better times, she and my mom used to speak to each other on the phone every day. So I feel like I'm keeping